♅ third

[themistress]

[It's a bit late to be in the kitchen, really. But Mistress is a somewhat nocturnal creature (the night time is the best time for large and elaborate parties, after all), and she gets a little bored when the lobby calms down in the evening.

So tonight, she's decided to explore the kitchen. And though she's from medieval times, it's not the microwave or the refrigerator that's caught her eye. Oh no.]

What are all these foods, exactly? So many of them, in so many layers of wrapping.

[You see, Mistress is used to less-processed food, served with goblets of wine and mead. More modern foods have piqued her curiosity! She's currently sitting on the counter in the kitchen, journal perched in her lap.

Every single piece of processed cheese in the refrigerator has been unwrapped and laid out methodically. Ding-Dongs and Swiss Rolls have been stacked into thoughtful pyramids, with swords stuck through them. There's a large and explicit painting on the floor, done entirely in condiments (mayonnaise and a pickle have been put to particularly good use). Potato chips seem to have been of particular interest, as Mistress has opened and tried every flavor she found in the cupboards.

There are some greasy streaks in the journal as she wipes her hands.]

Are things not made fresh here? Everything seems to be in its own little bag and stored. And who created this barbeque potato chip? I need to know.



[ OOC: open in the kitchen or over the journal. And here is her obligatory permissions post link. ]

Comments

[demontobeloved]

[Someone's shimmering into the kitchen by the fridge, and promptly opens it to take the milk out.

He's not noticed Mistress just yet as it is, as said, rather late.]

[themistress]

[Well, he did just shimmer into a large puddle of melted ice cream, but Mistress just glances over at him before closely inspecting a corn chip. It apparently passes muster, because she eats it.]

[demontobeloved]

[Cole doesn't notice until he nearly slips on it. He was still wearing shoes, and was turning to get a glass.

And then notices the mess, and the supposed perp.]

Well, someone's a messy eater.

[themistress]

Eating? No. I removed the frozen block from the box and left it there.

placeholder

[ardor]

[A late night snack seems like a good idea to Kallen. It can't be too bad in the kitchen this time of night, right?

Wrong.

She walks in a nearly slips on some condiments that had escaped from somewhere. A startled noise is most likely heard from her, but she manages to regain her balance before looking around.]

What the hell?

[themistress]

[Mistress just smirks at the misfortune of others.]

What the hell, indeed.

[ardor]

[She gets a good look at everything around the kitchen.]

Did you do all this?

[themistress]

Yes, of course. Well, I suppose it would be more obvious if I were able to make my mark...

[assassino]

Quite an unappealing surprise, isn't it? In a place where one could have fresh food all the time, people still seem to enjoy, well... packaged nonsense.

[themistress]

These foods are... interesting, at least. I can think of some creative uses for some of them. Most of them are overly sweet or salty.

I haven't seen any packaged fruits, which is odd. It all seems to be rather confectionery.

[assassino]

Really? I haven't seen packaged fruits yet, either, but I suppose there's still much to see.

[But wait!]

The other day, a doctor showed me a long, tapered yellow fruit that had its own thick skin. I hadn't seen that before.

[themistress]

No, that doesn't sound familiar. Was it perhaps a normal fruit, but enchanted? Apples have a sort of skin on them.

[ectobabble]

[Ray ... thankfully doesn't notice the floor painting yet, he's too fixated on the pyramids]

Whoa, cool --! You should do one with Twinkies.

[themistress]

Which one is Twinkies? [Hint: they're the ones that have toothpicks jabbed through them, forcing them into vaguely human shapes, in vaguely sexual poses, grouped near the microwave.]

I just realized that she's like NSFW Gozer

[ectobabble]

[he looks around, and --- oh. yeah, that earns a few rapidfire blinks]

Those ones. ... You couldn't read th' package?

[themistress]

I skimmed it.

[kickthecanplz]

[He'd been having trouble sleeping, probably due to that stupid attempt at looking cool by smoking. With a dry throat, he heads to the kitchen and sees a hot babe. Normally he'd turn right around and pretend nothing happened - but those line of questions give him pause.]

You know... Those are actually good questions... since we can just summon food out of nowhere. You'd think we'd be a little more worried...

[themistress]

[Mistress, who has been carefully affixing popcorn to a large penis drawn in mustard, turns to look at this newcomer.]

Do you not know what they are?

[kickthecanplz]

I know what they are, I just have no idea who made them... ghosts, magic, elves, no clue.

[Hey, what is she doing - ... is that a penis. No, no, surely not, I'm just suppressing those thoughts again.]

[thwarting]

[Aziraphale had been coming for his late night cup of cocoa, when he happened to step in a blob of mayonnaise on the floor.]

...Eurgh. How unhygienic.

[themistress]

[Mistress frowns at this, looking up from her gummy bear operating room (the green one needs a lobotomy!).]

It's not unhygienic. It's art.

[thwarting]

[Nose wrinkled, he waved a hand and all the condiments on the floor vanished to leave the floor spotless. It gleamed in the surprised manner of a floor that has been abruptly changed from stone to pastel-patterned linoleum, and isn't quite sure what to do with this sudden identity shift.]

Mayonnaise is not art, Miss.

/FASHIONABLY LATE ohgodpleasedon'tsayI'mtoolate

[knightprodigy]

[He looks up as he enters the kitchen and sees Mistress sat there on the counter. No. Oh Hell no. He couldn't have just wished for a cup of coffee like everyone else? No. He had to come down here, stretch his legs, and make it some scratch, didn't he?

It was too late to turn back now without seeming rude. And besides, maybe there really had been something in the wat- oh, no. That's semennaise spurting from a dickle, isn't it?

He clears his throat.]

Mistress.

[He greets a little cautiously before moving over to the kettle.]

TOO LATE! j/k there's no such thing

[themistress]

[Mistress leeringly smiles at him, and makes her way over to him.]

I don't believe you gave me your name when we met.

ilu ;A;

[knightprodigy]

[If ever there was a time to start calling himself 'Richard' it would be now, but. No one calls him that. No one has ever called him that unless he was in some sort of trouble, wherein 'Richard' was usually just a precursor for 'John Grayson, you are your father's son!' and variations there of.

Turning towards her, Dick licks his lips, trying to stop from smiling, because he can only imagine what she is going to say.]

No, I don't believe I did.